


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #13

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [15]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Barista Blaine, Crema verse, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>stberryklaine asked you: Crema prompt! I’m sure it’s been prompted already, but just in case, I would love to see their wedding :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #13

“What do you think of a muted palette of creams and burnished golds and coppers and reds?  With crystal accents for a little sparkle here and there, but nothing gaudy or obnoxious.”

Kurt is splayed out on their bed, swatches of fabric spread out in front of him.  He’s pushed aside everything in the purples, blues, and greens and made little color-coordinated piles that Blaine assumes are his ‘yes’ and ‘maybe’ options.

“What?”

“For the wedding.  We have to pick colors.  A theme, if you will.  So that everything is coordinated, but not matchy-matchy.  We can’t have a silver and white cake, and then gold and maroon center pieces, you know?”  Kurt pushes a little stack of grey, silver, and white swatches to the side, with the oranges and browns.  His long legs are stretched back and tangled together with Blaine’s.  Kurt shifts and absentmindedly runs his bare toes up Blaine’s calf. 

Blaine is leaning back against the headboard, propped up by a couple of pillows, and he’s got a copy of The Sea in his hands.  He’s read a few pages in the last half hour, but mostly he’s stared at the shifting of Kurt’s muscles under his thin shirt and the little patch of smooth skin at his lower back that got exposed when Kurt reached for his folder of wedding notes that had fallen to the floor at some point.

It’s not that Blaine doesn’t want to help with the wedding planning, or that he’s not interested, he  _is_ , he really is.  But he just doesn’t know what to do.  Color palettes and flowers and cake and caterers are foreign to him.  A wedding is something he’d never thought about before.  He’s only been to one before, a cousin’s when he was ten or eleven, and all he remembers is that his suit itched and his tie was too tight and the food sucked.  Blaine didn’t grow up imagining what his wedding might be like; he didn’t grow up planning his future at all.

But he has one now – a future – and it’s bright and warm and it tastes of chocolate and crema.  It’s perfect.  It sits buried deep in his bones and wrapped protectively around his soul.  His future, his  _life_  with Kurt is so profoundly engrained into his very being that Blaine knows it would tear him apart down to his blood – flay him wide open and irreparable – should anything ever separate them.

_Dance with me until we die._

“Doesn’t the color depend on when the wedding is?” Blaine asks.  He’s not  _completely_ hopeless, after all.

Kurt glances back over his shoulder and there’s a sweet grin curving his mouth and a fond, adoring look in his eyes.

“Well,” he says.  “I thought we’d get married in the fall.  In late September.”

Something wriggles happily in Blaine’s belly.  For so long, September was nothing but when school started.  It was when he could escape his house and his father and run to the safety and ease of hallways and classrooms and libraries until the lights were turned out and he was forced to go home for the evening.  But then, suddenly, September became so much more.  September became  _everything_.

“September is the most popular month for weddings,” he responds, just to tease Kurt a little.  He’d read it in a magazine just the other week.

“So?”  Kurt’s foot hooks around his ankle and Blaine slides his other leg closer. He digs his toes under Kurt’s thigh.

“So,” Blaine sets his book down on the pillow next to him.  It’s not like he can focus on it anymore anyway.  “We’d be sharing our anniversary with a ton of other couples.”  Blaine watches the shift of Kurt’s shoulders as he shrugs.  
  
“Yeah, and I share my birthday with something like 19 million other people.”  Kurt twists a little, so he can look into Blaine’s eyes all the better, and Blaine’s chest feels tight.  Two and a half years and the way Kurt looks at him – open, honest, adoring - still takes his breath away, still makes him feel worthy and perfect and loved.

“We met in September,” Kurt murmurs, and his eyelashes sweep in a slow blink.  “I fell in love in the fall.” 

“You didn’t tell me until the winter.”  Blaine gets up onto his knees.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t already true.  It was always true.”

Blaine leans down and spreads his body out on top of Kurt’s.  Kurt moves with him, and Blaine feels his body relax into the mattress until he fits perfectly – hips and thighs and arms stretched out and fingers tangled together.  Blaine nestles his cheek against the back of Kurt’s shoulder and breathes in deep the utterly familiar scent of his skin and their laundry soap and the lingering traces of his cologne.

_I will be in love with you forever_ , Blaine thinks with a sweet smile that he can’t contain.  The thought no longer hurts, no longer aches the way it did when he was still so unsure of Kurt, of himself – of everything.

“September is good,” he whispers.  “September is perfect.”

“And the colors?”  Kurt’s voice has gone low and soft, almost sleepy.  It’s the middle of the afternoon and the warm sunlight is streaming in through the tall windows, but Blaine thinks that a nap is the best idea either of them could have. 

“I look good in red, and you look good in gold.”

“Mmmm, yes you do.” 

Blaine takes another deep, slow breath and feels himself sinking down into sleep.  His eyes close and his limbs go heavy and he’s almost there when Kurt mumbles one last thing:

“We’re going to have to do something about your extreme dislike of frosting.”


End file.
